I sat down and wrote a joke.
Jack and Jill went up a hill to do it in the water Jack slipped his condom ripped and now they have a daughter
My mom once ate a full giant cheesecake, and we were walking to our flight back home, and she had to sh*t.
We were walking to the bathroom, and she full on [did it] in front of the carousel. She had a lump of poo in her pants... True story, haha!
Our teacher told us to write a story about the life of an object that's not alive, so I wrote a story about an emo kid.
Did you know that they are making a movie about the four boys who lost their lives on the ice? They're calling the movie "The Lost Boys."
Should I kill the main character's best friends in my book? It's an autobiography.
What did the lady say when she sat on Pinocchio's face:
"Tell a truth, tell a lie, tell a truth, tell a lie, tell a truth!"
I only have a few friends, like if you relate.
Based on a true story.
Stories like Rudolph and Wonder show that different means worse.
What’s the difference between a cancer patient and a British news reporter in the South?
They usually don’t live to tell the tale.
How did Pinocchio find out he was made of wood?
His hand caught on fire.
I play saxophone, and I like to tell everyone I am a registered s/o (short for saxophone operator) in hopes of one day starting a jazz band, but now everyone looks at me weird, and when I go to house parties to perform, everyone hides their children, but little do they know I LOVE children. For some reason, I got multiple restraining orders because I said, “I want to touch the kids so they can one day become musicians themselves... like Michael Jackson.” I have then since moved from my hometown to Florida, where I can meet up with other s/o’s, and surprisingly, they have similar stories to me, but they say they have never even touched a saxophone, but they do like touching kids, which I’m all down for, just me and my buddies showing the new youth their abilities.
Update: i figured out what they meant by s/o is not the same as my s/o :(
I read a story about a rabbit being raised. It was a hare-raising tale!
In the heart of a circular, creamy delight, there exists a void, a singular absence that adds to its charm. This hollow space, a perfect round, is a testament to the artistry of nature and man's culinary skills.
The hole, a silent observer, bears witness to the transformation of the substance around it, from a liquid state to a firm, yet supple form. It's a silent testament to the passage of time, a symbol of patience and the magic of fermentation.
The void, despite its emptiness, contributes to the overall aesthetic, making the slice a visual treat. It's a playful peek-a-boo with the world beyond, a window that adds mystery and intrigue.
In the end, the hole is not just a void, but a character in the story of this culinary masterpiece, a silent protagonist that adds depth and character to the narrative. It's a testament to the beauty of imperfection, a celebration of the unique and the unconventional.
One day there were these 3 cowboys sitting next to a fire and they were telling each other about their adventures. Well, the first cowboy said, "I tangled with a bull that killed 6 people, so I wrestled that son of a bitch to the ground with my bare hands."
The second cowboy said, "That's nothing. Yesterday I was walking on a trail and came across a rattler, so I picked it up, bit its head off, and drank all his venom in one gulp."
The third cowboy remained quiet, stirring the embers of the fire with his penis.
One day a rooster fell into a swimming pool and a cat laughed. And the moral of the story? A wet cock can always satisfy a pussy.
Did you ever hear the story about the broken pencil?
That's okay. There is really no point to it.
A teacher asked her young students to get their parents to tell them a story with a moral at the end of it. The next day, the kids came back and one by one began to tell their stories. There were all the regular type of stuff.
But then the teacher realized that only Janie was left. "Janie, do you have a story to share?" "Yes madam... My daddy told me a story about my Mom." "OK, let’s hear,” said the teacher.
“My Mom was a Marine pilot in Operation Desert Storm in Iraq and her plane got hit. She had to bail out over enemy territory and all she had was a flask of whiskey, a pistol, and a survival knife. She drank the whiskey on the way down so the bottle wouldn’t break and then her parachute landed her right in the middle of 20 Iraqi troops.” “She shot 15 of them with the pistol, until she ran out of bullets, killed four more with the knife, till the blade broke, and then she killed the last Iraqi with her bare hands.”
Pin drop silence in the class!
"Good Heavens," said the horrified teacher, "What did your Daddy tell you was the moral to this horrible story?"
“Stay away from Mummy when she’s drunk...!!!”
Why did Princess Di cross the road? Momentum.
I'm reading a horror story in Braille. Something bad is about to happen, I can FEEL it
